


We Can All Be Kings And Queens

by Cryptkeeper (orphan_account), VultureLovesong



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Harry Potter, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Tom Riddle, Blood Magic, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Bringing People Back To Life, Dark Doesn't Mean Evil, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Five Stages of Grief, Good Tom Riddle, Grief/Mourning, Half-Blood Prince AU, Harry Not Coping, Human Sacrifice, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Manipulative Dumbledore, Mentor Voldemort, Misguided Dumbledore, Necromancer Harry Potter, Necromancer Ton Riddle, Necromancy, Sane Voldemort, Sex Magic, Sexual Content, Someone Should Save Harry For Once, Talking To Dead People, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Well-Meaning Dumbledore, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cryptkeeper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VultureLovesong/pseuds/VultureLovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sirius dies, a distraught and broken Harry Potter goes to The Dark Lord to ask a very important question. The answer changes everything. A certain Dark Lord and the boy destined to defeat him make a deal that will shake the foundations of the magical world. Over time the two formor foes learn earth shattering secrets that bring them closer than they should come while the rest of the world is unknowingly ostresizing a child who no longer knows who he can trust. But just who is part of the horrendous atrocities committed to the savior and who is an innocent bystander unknowingly part of a terrible scheme.</p><p>Adopted By VultureLovesong</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matters Of Life And Death

**We Can All Be Kings And Queens by KissTheBoogeyman**

**Chapter One ~ Matters of Life And Death**

** **

The fearsome and all powerful Dark Lord Voldemort is in his study, drinking tea and going over the many reports of his Death Eaters, when it happens. Harry James Potter just appears before him, as if he aparated despite such a thing being an impossibility with the wards Voldemort set. The Dark lord was not expecting anyone, much less his nemesis, so he is dressed in his sleeping clothes and he isn't wearing his glamour. He should be freaking out over the fact that his enemy is seeing his best kept secret, except the Boy-Who-Lived is shaking and trembling and clearly as surprised to be there as Voldemort is that he is there. That's not all though. Harry Potter looks like hell warmed over. He looks like he hasn't slept for more than a few nightmare filled hours since the ministry attack two weeks earlier. He is pale as death with dark bruises on his skin and dark circles around his eyes like a raccoon mask. His messy black hair is greasy as Snape's and his usually vividly bright emerald eyes are dull and dead looking. He isn't even armed so the Dark Lord keeps his wand ready but not overly threatening as he watches the emotions pass over his face. Grief, shock, fear, shock, what seems like an insanely intense look of need, and finally determination.

"Can you do it?" Harry asks, voice hoarse like he has been screaming.

"Can I do what?" Voldemort questions, because he is completely lost at the moment 

"My first year, you told me that you could bring my parents back to life." Voldemort sucks in a sharp breath, and before he knows it Harry is up close, so close his breath warms the Dark Lord's face, hands fisted in the fabric of his black silk bathrobe. "Was that a lie to woo a naive child to your side, or can you really do it?"

He doesn't see any benifit in lying. The boy is already broken enough and, despite appearances, he isn't a complete monster. "I can." he affirms. "It is a long and arduous process, requiring a great deal of power, time, and sacrifice, but I can do it."

Harry lets him go and collapses on the floor, legs giving up under him. The Dark Lord moves to the other side of the desk, actually feeling a bit concerned for his nemesis. The boy looks up, and his startlingly grern eyes meet Voldemort's own wine red without fear or hesitation. "I will join you if you bring them back." he says, and there is no lie. "I will do whatever it takes, whatever you want, whatever I have to. Just bring them back, and I swear I will be yours to command."

"You would swear your allegiance to me for your parents, without knowing what you will have to do to make such a thing happen?" He asks incredulously, because it seems stupid not to ask for the proper information beforehand.

"Not just my parents. I want you to bring back Lily Evans-Potter, James Potter, and Sirius Black." the almost sixteen year old states. "No one else. I won't be selfish or greedy. I won't ask anything else of you. I won't demand you leave certain people alone, or ask that you stop this war, or demand that you do this in some clean and light way. I know what I am asking is going require that I do horrible things and taint my soul. I know they won't ever forgive me for it, but I can't live without them. I will do anything to get them back. I would get on my knees and beg you if I must. Just please, Please, bring them back. That is all I ask."

Voldemort nods. "Okay. I will expect an unbreakable vow in the morning." he says. "But right now you need to get sleep."

"But-" The Dark Lord holds up a hand to silence him.

"Potter, I am not kidding when I say this is a long and difficult ritual. We won't be finished preparing until sometime around Yule break." he informs the boy. "You will have to spend all your free time assisting me, and we will have to find a way that we can continue after you start school again. I can't have you fainting during the ritual. You can sleep in my bedroom tonight, and I will have my one of my house elves make you a room tomorrow. Tomorrow after you have eaten we can start, but I will not start until I am certain you have the strength required. That is final."

"Yes Sir, er, My lord? Umm, How do I adress you." he says meekly.

Voldemort sighs. "You may call me by my birthname when we are alone I suppose, considering you are privy to my secret." he gestures to his human looks. "If and when we are around others I will expect you to be disguised so my followers don't try anything considering your identity. I will provide a disguise so don't stress over that, but you must pick a name you can remember. During this time you will address me as the Dark Lord or My Lord. I will introduce you in a way that should have them aware that you are off limits, but for now you will have no contact with the Death Eaters so you don't have to worry. However, should you come across one of my followers I expect you to behave accordingly and you may never reveal that I can look any differently or that you are on my side. They know not to kill Harry Potter unless they themselves want death, so you may attack if you are in a situation that your identity is compromised. Your identity is one of the things you can offer, as I believe my spy is a traitor, and I am in need of a new one. Understood."

"Yes." he answers with a nod.

When he looks hesitant the Dark Lord arches an eyebrow. "What is it? Never be afraid to speak your mind when we are alone."

"It's just that you look like you did as Tom Riddle, a bit older yeah, but when you came back you looked like a snake. I just was wondering how this happened?" Harry answers.

The Dark Lord nods stiffly. "That is a very long story for another time." he says. "You may remind me one day to explain everything to you. For now I will tell you that I did some horrible magic in my youth that split my soul and tainted me in ways that I foolishly overlooked. I rectified this problem with a ritual shortly after my rebirth, so you needn't worry about it for now. Bed child."

Harry nods. "I, er that is, I don't know the way." he flushes cherry red when Voldemort arches and eyebrow imperiously at him.

The Dark Lord stands snd opens his study door. "Come on Potter."

They walk down the hall to a door at the end, which the Dark Lord opens. It is a grand bedroom, but decorated sparsely in black and silver. "Sleep child. Call Doxie when you wake and she will bring you to the breakfast hall after you are dressed."

"Thank you." Harry whispers.

Voldemort nods stiffly. He stays long enough to watch the teen snuggle down into the black covers, then he shuts the door, wondering what his life has become, and pretending he can't hear the boy crying.

His tea is cold when he gets back to the study.

Harry wakes up groggy, disoriented, and unsure of where he is. He puts on his glasses and looks around. Then it all comes crashing back like a freight train. He was in his room, trying to fight off Vernon as the fat asshole was trying to force his hands on Harry again, and he wished to he somewhere safe. His magic sent him to Voldemort's lair, just his luck, and he suddenly remembered what he had said in first year. It's surreal to think that he is now on the same side as Tom Riddle, Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in centuries. Just yesterday he was light, and now he is condemning himself to the dark.

"Doxie?" he calls out after remembering the instructions, unsure if he got the name correct. A house elf with huge purple eyes in a very clean pale green tea cozy pops in.

"Master say yous be callin' Doxi in morning." she says. "Doxi is to tell youd that yous can have the clothes in the clothes in the bottom drawer in Master's dresser. Doxi takes Master Harrys to the dinner hall for breakfast as soon as he is dressed."

"Thank you." he says politely, and he walks over to the ebony dresser. In the bottom drawer are a set of very nice clothes in his size. He feels silly as he dresses up in the ironed white button up dress shirt, black tie, black vest with silver buttons, and black slacks, because nothing he does tames his hair, then he follows the house elf to the breakfast hall, where Tom Riddle is sitting primly at the table eating what looks like a chicken sandwich as he bows over a stack of papers.

"Good afternoon." there is a grandfather clock pointing to three in the afternoon.

"Good afternoon." he answers. "Sorry I slept so long."

"Don't be stupid." he still doesn't look up. "You needed the sleep. Eat, and when you are done I will need you to accompany me to Knocturn Alley for some potions ingredients and other items of a delicate nature for the ritual. While we are there we will be making a stop in Diagon Alley and getting you a proper wardrobe because I refuse to be seen with you if you look like an uneducated pauper. Our last stop will be where I hid a very special heirloom that I will require for the ritual. You must, and this is vitally important, you must not put it on for any reason. No matter what. Is that understood."

"Of course Riddle." he doesn't argue even though he does not understand. He knows that his parents and Sirius are depending on him being a good follower for Voldemort. So far he hasn't even been ordered to do anything horrible yet. "Hey, won't it be bad for you and I to be seen. I am supposed to be in my room not allowed to leave, and won't Dumbledore recognise you?"

He does look quite a bit like his old self. Tall, lean, and pale with angular features and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. He looks twenty, twenty-five at most, with dark crimson eyes instead of the nearly black grey of sixteen year old Tom Riddle, and his hair is longer, just brushing his shoulders in the back, and it falls into his face a little. Riddle chuckles at his question as if he doesn't think it will be a problem, then he blinks and when he opens his eyes they are dark steely grey instead of wine red.

"You do realize that helps nothing." he points out. "Now you look more like your old self."

Riddle smirks. "Ah, but I am not trying to change my appearance." he says cryptically. "When we are in public I will be known as Tomas Rose."

"Rose?" Harry questions.

"It is a very common pureblood and muggle surname. They are a neutral family and it is difficult to disprove anyone who claims to be of this family. It was better than Gaunt, which is my mother's surname and my original choice." he answers. "I took the time to make myself another identity before I heard of the prophecy. I had been on the verge of taking over the ministry, and I needed an identity that could be respected. I had to change the birth year and which of the Rose female heirs I was using as my mother after the debacle with you defeating me and setting my plans back thirteen years, but it was easier than trying to create a new identity."

Harry nods sheepishly. "Sorry."

Riddle snorts. "No you are not."

"No, but it is polite to apologise." he agrees, then claps his hands together. "Now, Tom Rose. Who is he? I assume you have a full background."

"You assume correctly." he says. "Tomas Magnus Rose is a lesser heir of the Rose family. My mother, Marianne Bay Rose, died giving birth to me, and I grew up in muggle foster care after my father died when I was twelve. I was homeschooled and I took my OWLs and NEWTs at the ministry. I have spent the last few years travelling and learning." he pauses. "Now, if anyone looks deep enough they will see that I am the son of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Marianne Rose really did die in childbirth. Her child died with her, but she is dead, and thus can't confirm or deny anything. And you would be hard pressed to find more than a few people who actually know that Tom Riddle is myself. While it could be weird for you to be hanging around "Voldemort's son" it is the identity I have for myself when I want to get out away from my followers."

The Boy-Who-Lived nods. "Well I guess if anyone gives you hassle I can get really offended on your behalf." he says, then grinning turns to an imaginary person and puts on a hurt and angry face. "How dare you judge him on the actions of his father? Tomas is a good man and he is nothing like his father." he grins.

"Very convincing." Riddle mocks. "Now if you are quite finished we should get going if you want to start today. Finish your breakfast."

Harry wolfs down the last of his eggs and toast.


	2. Who Wants to Live Forever?

**We Can All Be Kings And Queens by KissTheBoogeyman**

**Chapter Two ~ Who Wants to Live Forever?**

** **

Shopping with someone who only yesterday was hell-bent on your death and destruction is a very odd experience.

Harry thought he had been kidding when Riddle said he was going to make Harry get a new wardrobe, but here they are in the third clothing shop in an hour, with Harry running dumbfounded after the Dark Lord as he grabs random things off shelves and hangers and throws them in his direction without giving Harry a choice in what he is grabbing. If Harry weren't such a good seeker all of the clothes would probably be on the ground, but it doesn't look like Riddle gives even a single fuck about it. In fact, if Harry didn't find it such an odd thought, he would probably think Riddle is having fun throwing stuff at him. It is a ridiculous thought.

"Do I really need this much clothes?" He asks. He has been holding off on asking, but he can no longer sit back quietly when Riddle throws four identical black robes over his ever growing pile.

"Yes." He answers in a tone the suggests he thinks Harry is an idiot. "In case it hasn't been clear this whole time these are completely different wardrobes. Some of these are everyday clothes, while others should only be worn during formal occasions, battle robes, and ritual robes. And it would go a lot faster if you would help instead of following after me like a drooling neanderthal."

"I was raised by muggles." Riddle glares at him, and it is almost impressive that he manages to make it just as scary when his eyes are grey instead of red. "I'm just saying, the only clothes I've had were hand-me-downs and school robes. I can't tell the differences to be honest. Also, would it kill you to add a little color in here. Unlike you I do wear other colors than grey, white, and black."

"You are fucking useless." Riddle snarls. "And I find that hard to believe. To hear Snape tell it you are a pampered spoiled brat who gets everything he wants."

Harry snorts. "Snape hates my guts because he and my father had a petty rivalry that was exasperated by house differences and a mutual love of the same woman." he tells the dark lord. "My father and his friends were bullies, but Snape was just as bad. The only difference is that my dad eventually changed, and Snape is still the same child-scaring bullying jerk he was when he was a sixth year. I'd wouldn't take anything Snape says about me at face value if I were you."

"And how would you define your relationship with your muggle relatives then?" Riddle asks, dragging him to the front so they can pay for the clothes.

"I was a magical child in a house full of magic-hating muggles. They stuck me inside a boot cupboard until my Hogwarts letter came in." He snorts. "You do the math."

"So what is that?" Potter asks.

Tom lets out a long suffering sigh and bats Potter's hands away from the glass display cases. "That is a very rare book on sex magic." He informs, and the boy turns a shade of red formerly only found on over-ripe strawberries. "Quit blushing like a virgin sacrifice and don't touch anything in here. That very book you were about to stick your grubby fingers all over has a flesh eating curse on the cover. Of course if you would like to watch your hand rot off like it is melting then please be my guest. It would be amusing to watch at the very least."

The boy pouts. "I thought we called a truce. You're very rude."

"And you are very annoying, but you don't see me pouting about it." he answers back, perhaps a bit childishly. "Why am I even bothering with helping you again?"

"Because you're insane." Potter mocks. "Don't ask me to try and decipher the crazy thoughts in your head."

"I wouldn't be in this situation if you had never been born." Tom mutters under his breath.

Potter's eyes flash with mischief, and there is a warm light in his eyes, which is actually a relief because his dulled dead eyes were actually starting to freak him out a bit. "You wouldn't be in this situation if you didn't believe in a crack pot prophecy when you hadn't even heard the full thing."

Tom glares but doesn't get to respond because the shop keep finally comes out. "What can I get you gentlemen?"

"I need 500 milligrams of dried powdered Re'em blood, 17 fresh Augurey feathers, no shorter than six inches, no longer than ten inches, 100 milliliters Manticore venom, 230 milliliters Unicorn blood, and 115 milliliters Basilisk Venom." Tom tells the balding man and he hands him a piece of parchment. "I know this all will be difficult to procure, but I need this all delivered to this address within the next seven days. I should also need 200 grams fresh Artemisia annua petals, 755 grams Asclepias curassavica, 20 grams scarab beetle eyes, 15 milligrams powdered vampire tooth, 100 grams crushed pixie wings, 400 grams Psychotria carthagenensis, and three human skulls, preferably one female and two male, but it does not really matter in the end. Anything you don't currently have in store can be sent when you have it."

The shopkeepers eyes get very wide as he goes through his list. "That will be 716 galleons, 12 sickles, and 13 knuts."

Tom pulls out his money and pays, then looks up when he hears a yelp. Potter is holding his bleeding rotting arm with a look of horrified awe. "I thought you were kidding!"

"Cernunnos help me!" The dark lord curses and grabs Harry by the wrist. "What part of don't touch the flesh eating book is so hard to understand?"

"I was curious." he answers.

Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. "This kind of stupidity is why I am a Dark Lord." He mutters, but he reverse the curse easily enough, and Potter flexes his no longer rotting fingers with an appreciative look. "Hands in your pockets."

"But-" Potter starts.

"Hands in your pockets or you can go to the corner and sit in time-out!" He snarls. The teenager shoves his hands petulantly in his pockets. "Salazar knows how you've managed to survive this long."

Harry follows the dark lord to a ... hovel. It is a few seconds before Harry can actually see the building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks. It seems to him a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the valley below. Its walls are mossy and so many tiles have fallen off the roof that the rafters are visible in places. Nettles grow all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which are tiny cracked and thick with grime and dust.

He also briefly thinks it's a good thing they had Doxie and Fidgit take the bags back to the Manor, because they would look quite odd with their bags bobbing behind them in a muggle village.

"This is the hiding spot for the oh so mysterious family heirloom we desperately need for the ritual?" He asks with a dubious look at the dilapidated shack.

"Yes." Riddle replies tersely. "Come on."

"I'm not going in there!" Harry protests. "Look at it. It's decomposing right before our eyes. I'm not risking the asbestos or tetanus or whatever else is in there. No sir, not me. Any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering."

Riddle's answering glare is not as scary when he expects it. "If you are quite finished, Potter, you are coming with me because _" He doesn't finish, just grabs Harry by the wrist and hauls him out of sight behind some trees.

"Wha-" Riddle puts a hand over his mouth and points.

Albus Dumbledore is strolling down the road to the shack, whistling a jaunty tune, in egg yolk yellow robes that hurt his eyes to look at. He goes into the shack after staring at it with a shudder, and from inside Harry sees some flashing lights and hears a lot of rummaging. Ten minutes later he comes out with what Harry thinks in a ring, and obviously is something very important because Riddle's grip tightens around his wrist to the point white-hot searing pain shoots up his arm, but luckily his pained yelp is muffled by Riddle's hand on his mouth. Dumbledore disappears with a pop and Riddle lets him go.

"Fuck I think you broke my arm!" He hisses.

"Suck it up." Riddle glares at him.

"What's your problem?" Harry growls.

"You don't get it, you pathetic little boy." He seethes.

"No I don't. So Explain instead of being an asshole." Harry yells.

"That ring is what we are here for." Riddle snarls at him. "The stone at the top is crystallized Dementor heart. It has the ability to call the souls of the dead back to the Earth, at great price to both the spirit and the user. It also happens to hold a piece of my own fucking soul, like that diary you might recall fell into your hands in your second year, and now Dumbledore has it. Do you get it now?"

"Fuck." Harry breathes.

"The only good that came out of this is that now there is a slow acting flesh-eating curse on Dumbledore that will kill him by the time the year is out." Riddle says viciously. "But now getting that ring is going to be your first priority. Your job is to get that ring when school starts back up, because while we can still set up everything else, that ring is the only way we are getting the exact souls we need."


End file.
